


Take Some Time (Get it Off Your Chest)

by oneoneandone



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:47:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28644690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneoneandone/pseuds/oneoneandone
Summary: It's been a long year.The breakdown was inevitable.
Relationships: Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett
Comments: 3
Kudos: 52





	Take Some Time (Get it Off Your Chest)

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Could you write a soran one where Em is just super overwhelmed and anxious being back in Orlando and having to play there, a Lindsey comforts her?_

“Hey,” Lindsey says from the door of the bedroom, where she’s been standing and watching Emily move across the room from one box to another, throw something in a suitcase before changing her mind and retrieving it, only to toss it in different one. It had been going on for awhile now, long enough that the steaming hot cup of tea she'd made has grown cool against her palm. Long enough that Lindsey finally can't watch it any longer, can't let it continue. Because as much as it hurts her to watch Emily's frantic breakdown, she knows that it's hurting her girlfriend even more.

"Hey, hey," she says again, putting the mug down on the dresser as she moves over to the blonde, and wraps Emily up in a tight, uncompromising hug. At first, Emily struggles against it, protesting that she needs to finish, needs to get her things sorted and packed and—

—and—

and—

But Lindsey just keeps holding her tight against her chest until at last, at last, there are no more ands. Until Emily slumps against her, trusting even in the depths of her despair that Lindsey will catch her, support her, hold her up. And she does.

Lindsey holds her close, swaying back and forth as her girlfriend sobs against her chest, finally letting out months and months of pent up stress and grief. It had been inevitable, she knew that. She's been waiting for it to happen, honestly. For everything to finally be too much. For the dam to burst, for months and months of _too much_ and _too little_ and _keep waiting_ to boil over and send Emily finally, finally off the edge of her fabricated ease into the very, very real ache of all that she has lost over the past year.

This has been a long time coming, and it needs to happen. But knowing that doesn't make it any less painful for Emily. Doesn't ease the ache in Lindsey's chest as she feels the woman she loves fall apart in her arms.

"Come on, baby," the taller woman whispers softly, "let's lay down for a bit." And she maneuvers them around the obstacles that are spread all over the floor. The bed is a mess of clothes—piles to keep and piles to toss and piles that have no label yet—but Lindsey shoves it all aside to gently lay down with Emily, molding herself to the blonde's back. And she holds her close, spoons the smaller woman, just trusting that when Emily knows what she needs, she'll ask for it.

"Wanna talk about it?" Lindsey whispers softly into the dark and silent room. It had taken a while, long enough for the sun to set and the chill of evening to permeate the room, but Emily is breathing easier now, and calmer. She'd shifted, turned into Lindsey, needing to bury her face in the younger woman's shirt, in the soothing scent of her girlfriend's skin. Now she twirls a finger in one of the cords of Lindsey's hoodie, some orange thing Emily has always actively claimed to hate but secretly thinks is beyond adorable on her sweet, soft girlfriend.

The blonde is quiet for a minute before she sighs, her cheek rubbing up against the soft cotton fleece at Lindsey's shoulder. "Not really," Emily whispers, but she knows she won't get far with that answer. Lindsey might not make her talk, but the silence of her acceptance will get Emily talking soon enough. Her girlfriend always gives her just enough space for the blonde to make the right choice. Even when she doesn't want to make it. Even when it hurts.

So Emily sighs again, and rolls onto her back, tapping Lindsey's belly. It's their little signal, Emily's way of telling her girlfriend that she needs to feel Lindsey's weight atop her, needs to feel grounded, secure, in a way that only Lindsey can do for her. The younger woman had been self-conscious at first, early in their relationship. She's always been a bigger girl compared to her friends, her teammates. But the blonde had made it pretty clear pretty early on that she wasn't afraid of Lindsey, that the breadth of her shoulders or the span of her hips didn't intimidate her in the least.

The brunette moves without a word, carefully resting over Emily, whose fingers slip up and under the back of her hoodie, skimming up and down the strong line of her spine. It's always been like this, so much so that Lindsey doesn't even think of it as anything but normal any longer. How in order to receive comfort, grace, Emily needs to give it.

"Do you feel better?" the younger woman asks softly, nuzzling her nose along the line of Emily's jaw. "All that, you've been holding it in a long time. Did finally letting it go help?" And she can feel it, the almost reluctant nod the blonde gives. And it makes Lindsey want to laugh. Oh, how she loves this woman. This strong, stubborn, lovely woman. But she can't, not now. Now is the time to be quiet, and soft, and listen.

Emily takes a deep breath, and bites her lip. It's her deep-thinking look, Lindsey recognizes, and smiles, nuzzling her nose against the other woman's chin. "It's just—," she sighs again, and Lindsey smiles, pressing a kiss to the corner of her girlfriend's mouth. "You know that episode of _The Office_ where everyone's watching the screensaver on the TV?"

And Lindsey nods, she remembers it. They've watched it together more than once.

"I feel like that image, you know? The one bouncing from side to side, and it's like," Emily closes her eyes, and Lindsey's not sure if it's to block out some image from her head or to focus on one, "it's like every time I get close to getting to that corner, the one everyone is waiting for me to hit, I miss. I'm off just a few degrees, just enough to keep me from that corner that's just the right shape for me."

The larger woman breathes in slowly, nodding against her girlfriend's collarbone. "You've had a rough year, baby," Lindsey whispers. And it's not a question. It's not even really a statement. Just an acknowledgement of everything the older woman has been through.

"It's not like yours was easier," Emily attempts to deflect, just the same way she always does. Her façade might be as the life of the party and the center of attention, but in reality, it's just another story of hiding in plain sight. No one looks too deep inside the girl with the loudest laugh and the biggest smile.

But Lindsey does. Lindsey looks, and looks, and looks until it hurts. Until Emily feels raw and exposed and ... and loved. Loved. Because there's someone who cares enough, who wants her enough, to lift the curtain. To see who she really, truly, is underneath it all.

"Mine wasn't easy," the larger woman agrees, "but I didn't lose my team, or my chance to play. I didn't go overseas all alone, and I didn't have to wait by the phone to find out how my girlfriend was doing after she tested positive for a pretty serious virus." She kisses over Emily's cheeks, light and gentle. "And after all that, I didn't come home just to lose my team again."

Lindsey shifts just enough to raise herself up on an elbow, just enough that she can look down at Emily, meet her eyes. "It's okay that it hurts, baby," she says softly, her free hand combing through Emily's loose blonde locks. "It's okay to be upset about it." And she watches as the woman she loves opens her eyes, and nods up at her. Slowly, tentatively, at first. And then with more conviction.

"I came back from Sweden committed to giving everything to this team," Emily says softly. "Even if Orlando wasn't my dream, even if I wasn't going to be playing with you. I was going to give it a hundred percent and more." She sighs as Lindsey kisses the corner of her mouth, supporting and loving all at once. "I came back with my head in the right place. It didn't matter that I wasn't on the Thorns any longer, I was going to play soccer and play it with everything I have inside of me. Except—"

"Except the rug got pulled out from under your feet again," Lindsey nods. "Except you were traded away again, all alone again, no team again." And maybe Lindsey couldn't pretend to know how it felt, being told again and again that your home was no longer your home. But she knew how it had made Emily feel. And for right now, that was enough.

Emily bites her lip, quiet, but her eyes tell Lindsey everything she needs to know. Everything she already knew. "And now we're back in Orlando for this camp, and these games, and it all feels like too much. Packing up your life again, leaving again. Worse, playing in the city that was supposed to be yours now, in the stadium."

"You sure you didn't go to college," the blonde sighs softly, the teasing words gentle, not mocking. And Lindsey only smiles.

"Proud student at Dasani U," she whispers, and laughs as the woman beneath her raises a brow.

"You a good student?" Emily gives her a grin and Lindsey feels her breath catch as just how beautiful her girlfriend is. Red eyes, red nose, tear tracks, and sniffling, still, she's the most beautiful woman Lindsey has ever seen.

She shrugs, amused, "Trying to be."

Emily's fingers still over the younger woman's back, and Lindsey feels something shift between them. In a way that she thinks—she feels—is important.

"Baby?" Lindsey asks, and she feels Emily's hand start moving again.

"What happens if I get traded again?" the blonde asks, "what happens if another team decides I'm not worth anything except as a pawn to trade in?"

Lindsey looks down at her, eyes fierce with love and promise. "You listen to me, Emily Sonnett," she says firmly, "you are no pawn. A jester, maybe. Or one of those horses. Or maybe the guy wearing—"

But Emily cuts her off with a laugh and a kiss. "We just binge watched all of _The Queen's Gambit_ ," she rolled her eyes, *"*how did absolutely nothing sink in?" And Lindsey grins, because there in the blonde's clear blue eyes is a little of the spark she so loves.

"Emmy," she says softly, the nickname she only really uses in their most intimate of moments slipping out unconsciously, "you're going to play in Washington with Kelley. They wanted you, badly. Bad enough to make some really strategic trades." Lindsey leaves sloppy, wet kisses over her girlfriend's neck, her goal not to arouse, not even to soothe, really, but to amuse, to bring out that sweet, playful side she loves so much. "You and Kel are going to do so much damage on that backline. You're going to lead the league, and the only one who's going to be able to score on you is going to be me."

At that, Emily laughs deeply, enough that Lindsey can feel the reverberations in her own chest. "You score on me on the field, and that's the last time you'll see the score sheet for a long time, Horan," she teases, eyebrows waggling so her meaning is absolutely clear, and the sound of her amusement echoes in the room as they lay together, just content to take comfort in each other's presence for a moment.

"You're going to be okay, baby," Lindsey whispers in the calm and the quiet, her fingers soft against Emily's jaw. "You're going to be okay, and we're going to be okay. And soon enough we'll find a way to play together again."

And Emily nods up at her, breathing in her girlfriend's scent. Soaking up the feel of her.

"Thank you," she whispers, pressing her palm against Lindsey's jaw, "for always catching me when I fall."

But Lindsey just smiles. "Oh, baby, you caught me first."

**Author's Note:**

> "Take Some Time," Wilderado


End file.
